Title: Ghost of You
Summary: Greg-well, he has these nightmares. And sometimes- sometimes they come true. No slash. Friendship piece. Possible spoilers for 'Spellbound.' Remember that sixth sense Greg was talking about? Also! Casefile! I never thought I'd write one of those.
By:Misile
A/N: I had so much fun writing this, when I wasn't freaking out about how badly I was doing. The idea came to me after a huge CSI splurge, involving DVDs and Max Collin's books, and also a weird dream in which Warrick was hit by a train at a party at one of my old houses while the rest of the CSIs where inside slow dancing to the Academy Is… by the light of paper lanterns. WEIRD. Maybe I'll write that up as a story. I hope you all have as much fun reading this as I did writing it, and I would love reviews from you all! No pressure. I always used to get confused about reviewing, because people would say 'Push the purple button!' and I could FIND NO PURPLE BUTTON! Maybe something's funky with my computer screen, because my review button is grey and blue. Feel free to push the blue-grey button! Thanks for reading, all! D
Chapter One: Sleep
This was not what Grissom had been expecting from sharing a hotel room with the infamously unpredictable Greg Sanders. He'd been expecting something along the lines of nude models delivering Greg's room service and a constant barrage of awful music until Grissom threatened to either fire Greg as a roommate and CSI or destroy every sound-producing device in the hotel. Short of any of these events, he at least expected an argument when it came time to turn off the lights. What Grissom hadn't seen coming was Greg immediately sprawling onto his chosen bed, lanky limbs dangling over the edge of the twin mattress, flipping through a well-read copy of an Edgar Allen Poe collection. His iPod buds were secured firmly in his ears providing a heavy dosage of music Grissom couldn't hear from his side of the room, but was undoubtedly destroying Greg's hearing as he watched.
Not that Grissom was spending his down time watching Greg read from across the room, After the initial shock of seeing Greg still and quiet, Grissom had- quite productively, if he could say so himself- re-read the case file. It seemed that it started as a domestic disturbance- the wife had cut the husbands cable, the husband returned the favour, and in retaliation, the wife had nailed all of the doors to the house shut while her husband was outside. The husband had gone to the neighbour's to use the phone, and found the door open and the neighbour dead on the kitchen floor. COD was a gunshot wound to the head. The neighbours had been eliminated as suspects-they had hardly known the victim, a Brian Caris- but Grissom and his team, consisting of Greg, Nick, and Catherine, had opted to stay overnight in the town, since the crime scene was over an hour and a half away from the lab.
After going over the case, Grissom had indulged in some Forensic Journals that he had brought along. One article on entomology in particular caught his attention, so much so that he failed to notice the late hour entirely.
There was no protest on Greg's part when Grissom flipped out the lights, because he had already fallen asleep, face hidden under one spindly arm splayed dramatically across his eyes, book abandoned beside his splayed palm. He hadn't even bothered to get under the covers before closing his eyes. It took only seconds after 'lights out' for Grissom to fall to sleep's welcome embrace.
Though Grissom could have slept for days, the universe, it seemed, had other plans. He woke at a little after two in the morning, his internal clock screaming that now was the time for work, while his mind insisted that this investigation was going to take place in the revealing light of day. Grissom lay quietly, ever hopeful that his mind would win the battle. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, listening to the near-silence of the hotel room.
When Greg first started talking, Grissom thought that he was hearing a muffled argument coming from another room; hotel walls were notoriously thin. It took the confused CSI a few moments to understand that the voice was Greg, muttering into his pillow while he slept. Grissom listened, and found that he could only make out every few words, not because the speech was slurred with sleep and smothered by a mouthful of pillow, but because most of it was in another language. Grissom realized with a start that it must be Norwegian, and wondered why Greg of all people would have dreams in another language.
Greg sounded angry now, and though he didn't understand the words, Grissom recognized the tone- angry and fearful. Greg's comatose babblings never became full sentences in any language, so Grissom couldn't decipher what, exactly, was going on in the younger man's head. Not that he wanted to know; though it was tempting, Grissom felt slightly uncomfortable invading his CSI's dream talk in case something came up that would embarrass Greg. Trying to close his ears to Greg's voice, which seemed ironic seeing all he went through to keep his hearing, Grissom rolled over, his back to Greg.
And it worked, mostly. He managed to block out the sound almost entirely, counting in his head, until he heard Greg utter a strangled "Stop!"
Aaand… SCENE.
A/N: That was a really terrible chapter ending, and I'm sorry, but I really couldn't think of a better place to end it. Reviews would be appreciated, and thanks for reading! Apologies for the short chapter.